


Epistles

by crayyyonn



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-15 00:21:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13601571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crayyyonn/pseuds/crayyyonn
Summary: 5 times Atobe wrote Tezuka a note +1 time Tezuka wrote one back.





	Epistles

The first letter is slipped into his shoe cubby at school.

_I thought of you today as I woke, you were the first thing on my mind._

It’s innocuous enough except for the elaborate, flowery cursive, which Kunimitsu can’t place but is pretty sure he only needs one guess as to who it belongs to. Be that as it may, there is little reason for it to turn up here, so far away from the school, the home, the hand that wrote it. Kunimitsu can just imagine it, the elegant, slender fingers gripping the thousand-dollar fountain pen (don’t ask him how he knows his mysterious letter writer owns one, he just _knows_ ), the press of the nib onto the perfumed paper, just enough to convey the ferocity of emotion.

He can’t help but run the pads of his fingers over the indentations as he reads the sentence again.

 

The second letter appears on his desk two afternoons later, slotted in between the pages of his battered copy of Stoppard’s Arcadia, which Kunimitsu has been slowly savoring over the course of a month. Slowly, because it’s in its original English; slowly, because a play like this is not meant to be devoured.

_You are as much a mystery as the clouds, the daffodils, the waterfalls—you are what poets write about._

On the nose, Kunimitsu thinks, just like the carefully pressed daffodil bookmark it arrived with, but effective. He ought to be surprised his writer knows the work enough to quote from it, though if he really thinks about it, he honestly isn’t. He’s a lot more curious about how they could have known about his current literary adventure, however.

Then again, he’s got a few guesses. To be specific, one guess.

He turns to it, studies the way he’s staring out of the window, an expression of absolute serenity. As though feeling Kunimitsu’s gaze, he turns around then, quirks an eyebrow as if to ask, _what?_

Kunimitsu gives it a few seconds before shaking his head. Is it just him, or is that a glimmer of a smirk he sees on Fuji’s face?

 

He has to wait a week for the third, but it’s well worth it, he thinks, when it finally comes. It’s handed to him by Ryuuzaki-sensei together with his assessment forms of the club members and a pointed, “Direct post to your own home, Tezuka.”

He accepts both with a nod, waits until he’s in the deserted corridor to slide a thumb under the flap of the envelope.

It’s a picture this time, instead of a note, a shot of quaint rooftops drawing the eye to the aquamarine sea. It sparkles and Kunimitsu imagines for a moment that he can smell the salty breeze. He flips the picture over, drinks in the scrawl that’s more than familiar by now.

_I want to sell you a dream—you, me, a small town by the sea._

The words make him scoff—fondly, but still. His not-so mysterious love letter writer would be clawing at the walls in a day if he had to live in a place like in the picture. But it’s a nice dream.   

Carefully, Kunimitsu slips the picture back into the envelope and between the pages of his journal, next to the other two.

 

Letter number four actually does turn up in his mailbox at home, and Kunimitsu spares a second to frown at the underhanded measures and likely excessive amount of resources he’s certain were employed in the getting of his address. But it only lasts for a second before he’s eagerly tearing into it.

_If home is where the heart is, can mine be with you?_

Kunimitsu turns the note over but that’s all there is to it, even when he tips the opening of the envelope toward his hand. He sighs and pushes the gate open, resigning himself to waiting for number five.

 

He almost doesn’t see Atobe the way he’s standing next to the clubhouse, school uniform blending in with the shadow of the old willow tree that has been on school grounds for decades. But then he does notice him and does a double take. Motioning for the rest of the team to go on ahead, Kunimitsu strides up to him.

“Atobe. You’re a long way from Hyoutei.”

The other captain—no question about it— _swaggers_ up to where Kunimitsu is standing, feet planted shoulder-width apart, tennis racket under one arm, and smirks up at him from under his lashes. Kunimitsu almost raises a hand to his chest to clutch at his palpitating heart.

Almost. As it is, he just clenches his fist where it’s hidden under an armpit.

“Did you need something?”

Suitably blase, he decides, patting himself on the back. But then Atobe’s smirk widens, and Kunimitsu barely has time to wonder why when he realizes he’s holding out something to him.

An envelope something, to be precise. A very familiar one. There’s a card inside.

_Be my valentine?_

▢ __Yes_ _

The flowery script is incongruous with the childishness of the message, and Kunimitsu has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop the grin threatening to take over his face. Instead, he clears his throat and pushes his glasses up his nose, assuming a serious mien.

“There’s only one choice.”

“Did you need another?” comes the arch reply, the raised eyebrow the epitome of haughtiness. Ominously threatening  Kunimitsu supposes he deserves it. Still, it’s the principle of the matter.

“I would prefer to keep my options open,” he replies, even as he reaches into his pocket for a pen. He scribbles on the card and hands it back, his handwriting looking blockier next to Atobe’s, and watches as Atobe’s eyes narrow when he takes in his response.

_Take a set off me and we’ll talk._

At the finger snap, Kabaji appears, racket in hand. “Oh, I’m good for more than one set, Kunimitsu.”

Atobe’s gaze, when it meets Kunimitsu’s is sharp, predatory. Kunimitsu cannot wait.

**Author's Note:**

> i was so happy to have worked in an arcadia reference that i decided to work in one to the tennis song from city of angels too :D
> 
> how has no one ever done a city of angels/tennis song au for PoT, i will never know
> 
> thanks for reading


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